Part 28 (1/2)
They are full of it. Count Irma and the revolutionists have piled victory on victory. They are now at the very gates of the capital; the royal army is disorganized, its forces going over in hordes to the insurgents; the king is in a very panic and preparing, it is reported, to fly before the city falls.”
”A judgment, Alburtus, a judgment!” Cleek cried with such vehemence that it startled her. ”Your son drinks of the cup you prepared for Karma's. The same cup, the same result: dethronement, flight, exile in the world's wildernesses, and perhaps--death. Well done, Irma!
A judgment on you, Mauravania. You pay! You pay!”
”How wonderful you are--you seem to know everything!” declared Ailsa.
”But in this at least you appear to be misinformed, dear. I have been reading the reports faithfully and it seems that death was not the end of all who shared in Queen Karma's exile and flight. Count Irma is telling a tale which is calling recruits to the standard of the revolutionists hourly. The eldest son--the Crown Prince Maximilian--is still alive. The count swears to that; swears that he has seen him; that he knows where to find him at any moment. The special correspondent of the _Times_ writes that everywhere the demand is for the Restoration, the battle cry of the insurgents 'Maximilian!' and the whole country ringing with it.”
”I can quite believe it,” he said, with one of his queer, crooked smiles. ”They are an excitable people, the Mauravanians, but, unfortunately, a fickle one as well. It is up to-day and down to-morrow with them. At present the cry is for Maximillian; this time next month it may be for Irma and a republican form of government, and--Maximillian may go hang for all they want of him. Still, if they maintain the present cry--and the House of Alburtus falls--and the followers of Irma win----But what's the use of bothering about it? Let us talk of things that have a personal interest for us, dear. Give me to-morrow, if you can. I shall have a whole day's freedom for the first time in weeks. The water lilies are in bloom in the upper reaches of the Thames and my soul is simply crying for the river's solitudes, the lilies, the silence, and _you_! I want you--all to myself--up there, among G.o.d's things. Give me the day, if you can.”
She gave him not one but many, as it turned out; for that one day proved such a magic thing that she was only too willing to repeat it, and as the Yard had no especial need of him, and the plain-clothes man who had been set upon Waldemar's track had as yet nothing to report, it grew to be a regular habit with him to spend the long days up in the river solitudes with Ailsa, picnicking among the swans, and to come home to Dollops at night tired, but very happy.
It went on like this for more than ten days, uninterruptedly; but at length there came a time when an entry in his notebook warned him that there was something he could not put off any longer--something that must certainly be attended to to-morrow, in town, early--and he went to bed that night with the melancholy feeling that the next day could only be a half holiday, not a whole one, and that his hours with her would be few.
But when that to-morrow came he knew that even these were to be denied him; for the long-deferred call of the Yard had come, and Narkom, ringing him up at breakfast time, asked for an immediate meeting.
”In town, dear chap, as near to Liverpool Street and as early as you can possibly make it.”
”Well, I can't make it earlier than half-past ten. I've got a little private business of my own to attend to, as it happens, Mr.
Narkom,” he replied. ”I'd put it off if I could, but I can't.
To-day before noon is the last possible hour. But look here! I can meet you at half-past ten in Bishopsgate Street, between St.
Ethelburga's Church and Bevis Narks, if that will do. Will, eh?
All right. Be on the lookout for me there, then. What? The new blue limousine, eh? Right you are. I'm your man to the tick of the half hour. Good-bye!”
And he was, as it turned out. For the new blue limousine (a glistening, spic-span sixty-horsepower machine, perfect in every detail) had no more than come to a standstill at the kerb in the exact neighbourhood stated at the exact half hour agreed upon, when open whisked the door, and in jumped Cleek with the swiftness and agility of a cat.
CHAPTER XXVI
”Good morning, my friend. I hope I haven't taken you too much by surprise,” he said, as the limousine sprang into activity the instant he closed the door, and settled himself down beside the superintendent.
”Not more than usual, dear chap. But I shall never get quite used to some of your little tricks. Gad! You're the most abnormally prompt beggar that ever existed, I do believe. You absolutely break all records.”
”Well, I certainly came within a hair's breadth of losing my reputation this morning, then,” he answered cheerily, as he fumbled in his pockets for a match. ”It was a hard pull to cover the distance and get through the business in time, I can tell you, with the brief margin I had. But fortunately----Here! Take charge of that, will you? And read it over while I'm getting a light.”
”That” was a long legal-looking envelope which he had whisked out of his pocket and tossed into Narkom's lap.
”'Royal British Life a.s.surance Society,'” repeated he, reading off the single line printed on the upper left-hand corner of the envelope. ”What the d.i.c.kens----I say, is it a policy?”
”Aha!” a.s.sented Cleek, with his mouth full of smoke. ”The medico who put me through my paces, some time ago, reported me sound in wind and limb, and warranted not to bite, shy, or kick over the traces, and I was duly ordered to turn up at the London office before noon on a given day to sign up (and pay down) and receive that interesting doc.u.ment, otherwise my application would be void, et cetera. This, as it happens, is the 'given day' in question; and as the office doesn't open for business before ten A. M., and there wasn't the least likelihood of my being able to get back to it before noon, when you were calling for me--'there you have the whole thing in a nutsh.e.l.l,' as the old woman said when she poisoned the filberts.”
Meanwhile, Narkom had opened the envelope and glanced over the doc.u.ment it contained. He now sat up with a jerk and voiced a cry of amazement.
”Good Lord, deliver us!” he exclaimed. ”In favour of Dollops!”
”Yes,” said Cleek. ”He's a faithful little monkey and--I've nothing else to leave him. There's always a chance, you know--with Margot's lot and Waldemar's. I shouldn't like to think of the boy being forced back into the streets if--anything should happen to me.”
”Well, I'll be----What a man! What a man! Cleek, my dear, dear friend--my comrade--my pal----”
”Chuck it! Scotland Yard with the snuffles is enough to make the G.o.ds shriek, you dear old footler! Why, G.o.d bless your old soul, I----Brakes on! Let's talk about the new limousine. She's a beauty, isn't she? Locker, mirror: just like the old red one, and----h.e.l.lo!